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“Shoot. Let me just pull it up on my phone…” Hardy tried next.
“Painted Rock Creek? It’s over there,” Madden replied.
“Shut it, Madden,” Erin cursed under her breath.
“Fly us over it,” Harlon ordered.
“Sorry, no can do,” Madden said. “Not unless the wind shifts.”
Harlon Greene was clearly a man used to getting what he wanted, and in the dead silence that ensued, I pictured Madden wincing and looking away.
“What a pity,” Harlon grunted in a low, dangerous voice.
“I mean, I’ll do my best,” Madden added quickly. “But in a balloon, you can’t pick your direction. You can only control up and down. The wind does the rest.”
“I see,” Harlon muttered, not at all pleased.
I held my breath, half expecting a roar of wind to come sluicing out of the mountains. It didn’t, but the coordinates Madden read off did start to veer north.
“Three-forty degrees at four-point-two knots… Three-forty-two… Three-forty-five… Well, you might be in luck, Mr. Greene,” Madden exclaimed.
Erin stared at the radio, then at the balloon.
I stared too. Only the rarest, most powerful warlocks could force natural phenomena as powerful as earth, wind, water, or fire to do their bidding. If I were still with the agency, I would definitely flag Harlon Greene, big-time. But I’d left, and now, I was on my own.
Notyourproblem, a little voice said in my head.
No, it wasn’t. But it sure seemed to be a problem for Erin, who grew more agitated as the conversation continued.
“That’s Painted Rock, and that green line there is the creek,” Madden explained. “They say there’s a fifth, hidden vortex out there.”
If looks could kill, the radio would have imploded, given the glare Erin leveled at it, then at the balloon.
“You don’t say,” Harlon replied in an extra-smooth tone.
“The property we discussed is nestled against the rocks, right back there,” Hardy threw in.
Erin’s cheeks paled from the red of anger to the white of fear. Well, unease, maybe. Erin didn’t seem the type to fear much.
Not even a warlock?a little voice whispered in my mind.
I frowned, remembering her father. Did she think she could handle others of his kind?
But Erin’s father had left as quickly as he’d come. Harlon was snooping around. Why?
“Oh, Harlon, you must buy it,” one of the women cooed over the radio. “It looks so pretty back there. You could knock down those shacks and put up a mansion!”
My eyes slid over to find Erin fuming. Was one of those cabins up at Painted Rock Creek her home?
“You could do more than that,” Hardy chuckled. “It’s outside the national forest, so it’s just a matter of paperwork to get zoning for an entire resort.”
Erin didn’t actually growl, but I swore, she came close.
“Of course, you’d have to talk the owner into selling,” Hardy went on.
“It’s not for sale,” Erin muttered, almost too quietly to catch. “It never will be.”
Harlon chuckled. “I’m a very persuasive man.”
